Wake Me When I'm Gone
by Deadfictionalcharacters
Summary: For an eternity, their village was the last outpost in a world consumed by mist. Its only protection from the forces threatening to destroy it are the sacrificed souls of its inhabitants, Basch Zwingli being one such inhabitant. AU


**This is a story from an au that I have been working on for quite some time, and this particular story is partially based off of the song "Alesia" by Eluveitie. I hope that you enjoy it.**

The grass was as beautiful as it always was. It was the most beautiful thing about this damned world. Every other thing seemed to be tainted. The glowing flowers, stained forever with the blood of some other like him. The once musical songs of the birds now only echoed the cries of the dead children. The swirling mist that surrounded their village only brought death, destruction, and doom.

Some laughter would continue, but not enough. Not as much as before. Much more likely were fearful shrieks as terrified children were dragged off to face the fate that they all shared. None of that, however, compared to the hush before the felling stroke, and the deathly silence afterwards.

"Hurry up Basch, or you'll be next~" another joked, before running off to the food hut, leaving him to stare at the scaffold, and imagine how his death might unfold.

Basch knew this place well enough to tell that his blood was already on the ground.

Slowly, he turned around, and walked to the food hut. Intricate tapestries lined its ceiling, each telling the story of their people, and giving tribute to those who had "sacrificed their lives for our continued safety."

He made eye contact with the boy who mocked him earlier, and glared. That child had no notion of life and death, mortality, consequences. Everything was just a game to him.

God, he pissed Basch off.

As did just about everyone else. He sat away from them, poking at his meal, some kind of mashed tuber. Somehow, the blood speckled dagger atop the front of the hall had made him lose his appetite.

Instead, he looked up at the table of the Priests, where the ones who would end their life one day sat, exchanging hushed whispers, and throwing hair into a pot. One of their children threw some berries in, and then ran back to sit down.

Basch despised the priests. They spent their time preaching about how "we must give our lives to protect the village" with hardly any actually doing so themselves. It was obvious enough how many had actually sacrificed themselves. He could barely think of any, in this whole time.

They muttered, and stirred their pot, always giving the name of some innocent, the next one to have to give their life, but never their own.

And of course, those monsters never even gave a damn about their own children. At least 5, already sent to their deaths, just because "the land must be protected."

How fun.

"Attention, children," the tallest priest stood up, signalling for them to do the same. Begrudgingly, Basch did. "It has came to our attention that the people of the otherworld are on the move again, and thus, our protections have been weakened." Basch looked around, rooted to the spot, seeing a mix of faces. Some happy, hopeful, accepting of what was to come. Some sad, already trying to guess who would leave them. Some fearful, desperately hoping that they would not be next. And some mirroring Basch's face-cynical, sick of the slaughter, fed up with the priests. All remained equally still. "They must be rejuvenated, with new blood."

A meek nod was given by a few members of the audience, those same ones refusing to look anywhere but the floor.

The Priest surveyed the room for a moment, his eyes not betraying a shred of pity for whichever life he saw fit to end. For a moment he looked back, and, in unison, his family stepped forwards. Basch winced. A red smoke rose out of the cauldron, smothering the room, snaking through cracks and around heads, until every one of the children was blinded by it.

Everyone except Basch.

In a moment of panic, he tried to duck out of it, towards the smoke, but it evaded him, no matter what he did. His breathing quickened, he knew this was it. Then, he stood firm.

The smoke cleared at the flick of the priest's wrist. The other children had sat down now. The boy who had mocked him earlier now stared at him, guilt and shock evident in his eyes.

Basch stepped forwards. As he did so, he spotted his sister, Lilli. She was crying, and tried to run towards him, but a movement of the priest stopped her. "Hush now Lilli, Basch is going to sacrifice himself for the good of you all. Why would you cry about that?" His words seemed to be calming, but his tone was threatening. Lilli sat down, remaining completely still, staring at the tapestries of the dead, silent tears spilling out of her eyes.

 _The two children gazed up at their mother. She had told them that she'd be going away for a while, but for them not to worry, she'd see them again. She smiled sweetly at them, and motioned for them to run, run to the other side of the village. The woman looked back, and when she saw that the two children were out of eyesight, she brought the dagger towards her chest._

"Come now Basch, we must prepare you for your glorious moment, mustn't we?"

Basch nodded slowly, and walked towards the priest's table, promising himself he wouldn't look back towards his sister. Smiling, the priest gestured towards the cauldron that sat in front of them, and forced Basch's head into whatever was in the cauldron, the boy gasping in shock.

 _Rolling fields, animals. Farming, War, and a thick mist swallowing it all._

Then the priest pulled his head out of the cauldron, and gazed into the boy's eyes, trying to make sense of the dazed look on his face, trying to figure out what he had seen. It was different for everyone.

Basch, however, could only stare as The Priest called his children to bring forth the tapestry. He winced as he saw the countless splashes of blood that stained it, its original message lost.

 _The two children watched with horror on their faces as it happened. The woman, a priest, lifted up her striking red hair, and draped the tapestry that she had sewn for this occasion over her shoulders. She knelt, and made eye contact with her husband, the man with the dagger. She closed her eyes, and waited for blow to come._

Basch winced as the priest's hand fell upon his shoulder. Slowly, the man began to walk with Basch outside, each step that he took felt heavier and heavier, each step that he took felt like he was being dragged to the bottom of the ocean.

One by one, the rest of the children filed out behind them, each shuffling slowly, mournfully, with their heads lowered. Basch looked around the village, at the flaking paint on the huts, the splintering fence with a pale red bird perched on it. He felt in his heart that this would be the last time that he saw this place, and a shudder went through him.

Perhaps she saw his shudder, perhaps she was building up the courage to do this ever since her outburst in the hall, but Lilli snuck out of the solemn line and rushed towards Basch with tears in her eyes.

 _The boy and his sister sat down, both shaken to the core by what had happened. One of them, just like them, just as easily them, was gone. Just like that. Both of them young, both of them only recently having grasped the fact that death could rip someone close from them, and both of them shocked that their people could be the ones taking death's form._

 _The blood was still staining the floor, shining through the gloomy light, and the boy's eyes were wide open as he slowly trickled to nothingness._

 _Basch closed his eyes, and pulled Lilli towards him, as if trying to protect her from the same fate._

Lilli ran past the priests and their shouts, trying to reach Basch, until she grabbed his arm, ignoring the protests of the last priest. She seemed to understand that there was nothing that she could do, and looked down.

She couldn't find the words for anything except a choked out farewell, before the priest pushed her away. She fell in the mud, and made no attempt to stand up again.

Basch simply glared at the priest, stifling his tears as he walked towards the scaffold. It was a cold day, and a bitter breeze swept through them, shivers wracking their miserable bodies. As he walked, half melted mud stuck to his feet, and his steps began to glue him down. None of this felt real.

Then he looked up and saw the scaffold, a raised platform with a single chair upon it, almost framed by the deep purple clouds above it, each scratch and each scuff and each _stain_ illuminated by faint rays of light, it seemed horrifically close to him.

Another shiver passed through him as his feet moved themselves up the steps. His eyes were blank, staring, only the silent tears would inform someone that he had not yet been killed. His footsteps were the only noise to be heard, faint thuds and creaks. Each resonated through the crowd as though they were made by Giants walking upon mountains.

Basch sat down on the chair, feeling it give way slightly beneath him, and for a moment it seemed as if he were to fall through it. He almost wished he had.

The child of the priest walked towards Basch, and draped the tapestry over his shoulders. Basch did not move.

The wind stopped, and all the birds were silent. In the distance, there was thunder, and a bolt of lightning illuminated the silver, copper stained dagger that was now being held aloft by the priest.

Time slowed down.

Basch sucked in a breath.

He closed his eyes.

And the dagger fell.

* * *

In another place and time, the nation known as Switzerland awoke with a start.


End file.
